


Hot Like Wasabi

by Camden



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-01
Updated: 2010-05-01
Packaged: 2017-10-12 03:45:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camden/pseuds/Camden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not like Kris is trying to jerk off to pictures of Adam. It just keeps happening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Like Wasabi

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna be long. First of all, this is my way of kicking off [](http://community.livejournal.com/mmom/profile)[**mmom**](http://community.livejournal.com/mmom/) (the Merry Month of Masturbation), and I also used a prompt from the [](http://community.livejournal.com/aianonlovefest/profile)[**aianonlovefest**](http://community.livejournal.com/aianonlovefest/), _Kris masturbating to one of Adam's ~naughtier photoshoots, nervous and totally not able to help himself. He comes all over the magazine, and Adam later finds it. And is totally turned on by the idea, so he keeps ~pushing it with his photoshoots until Kris just jumps him._ Thank you anon prompter! Inspiration credit goes to [](http://indyakasha.livejournal.com/profile)[**indyakasha**](http://indyakasha.livejournal.com/). She knows why. Last but not least, the amazing [](http://sbb23.livejournal.com/profile)[**sbb23**](http://sbb23.livejournal.com/) who stepped in to beta and is the only reason this doesn't suck. Title is from the Barenaked Ladies via the fictional Neil Lambert. Somewhere along the way, this got combined with the "Kris is obsessed with Adam's ass" fic I was gonna do, so I hope everyone likes Adam's ass. We know Kris does. <3

  
**Hot Like Wasabi**

It's not as if he's _trying_ to jerk off to a picture of Adam. It's just that he's sitting there, looking at the picture, and his dick gets hard, and it kind of... happens. He wouldn't call it accidental, per se, but it's not _premeditated_ , and he's willing to swear to that in a court of law.

Of course, when he'd arrived at Adam's house and discovered that Adam wasn't home, he probably should have left, like a normal person would do. But Kris does have a key that Adam did give to him, all official-like – he didn't steal Adam's keys and make a copy or something psycho like that – so clearly Adam wanted him to be able to come in when he wasn't home.

It occurs to Kris belatedly that perhaps Adam was thinking more along the lines of 'water my plants when I'm out of town' and not 'come over when I'm not home and start rifling through the things in my mail pile and find a copy of Japanese Rolling Stone and start flipping through it and then pull out your cock.'

Although, with Adam, you never really know.

But that's totally how it happens, and regardless of how invasive it might be, when Kris gets to the two-page spread of Adam lying on his back, one hand perilously close to his crotch and his other hand grasping for purchase on the floor, with that _look_ on his face, well... Things happen. Guys aren't always in control of this stuff. And it's not like he's ever watched Adam have sex or something sick like that, but he can imagine it now, far too clearly. Adam's mouth open like that, his hips thrusting upward.

Then it's only a hop, skip, and a jump to imagining his hips thrusting _at_ something. Maybe someone. Into a hand, or a mouth. Or even someone _sitting_ on him, straddling him, and...

And that's when Kris comes on the magazine. And he goes from orgasm to damage control in about two-point-one seconds, because Adam's definitely going to notice this. He's not the most observant guy in the world, but he's going to know that his advance copy of the magazine didn't arrive pre-spunked.

Of course, because Kris has definitely used up his allotment of luck for the century, just as he's swiping the magazine off with a paper towel, his pants still hanging open, he hears a key in the door. He's so beyond busted, and he only has time to do one thing – either hide the evidence or put his dick away.

He fastens his pants faster than he's ever done before, narrowly avoiding a zipper injury, and shoves the paper towel down the couch. He sprawls on the couch in a pose that he hopes looks nonchalant, and waves as Adam comes around the corner into the living room.

"Hey. Hope you don't mind I let myself in," Kris says, hoping Adam doesn't ask why he's still breathing a little heavily.

"Of course not. Hey, is that the Japanese Rolling Stone?"

Kris coughs a little, trying not to choke. "Yeah, think so. So, anyway, sorry for not calling, but I really needed to talk to you about something."

It's the perfect thing to distract Adam from his magazine, because Adam can't ever resist a friend who needs his help. He immediately sits down next to Kris and grabs his hand. Thankfully his left hand. "Of course. Is something wrong?"

"Umm..." Kris hadn't thought that far ahead, and he needs to come up with a problem fast. "I think I lost my phone. Have you seen it?" It's the lamest possible excuse for needing to see Adam in the world, but he's never been too good under pressure.

Adam looks at him like he's sort of crazy. "Uh, no. Not since last week in Vegas. When we were at Jet's. This is the first time I've seen you since we've been back in LA. How would I have seen it?"

Kris shrugs. He's such an idiot. An idiot who masturbates to pictures of his gay best friend.

Adam laughs. "You know what I think?" he asks, with a dirty little smile.

Kris freezes in terror. Adam couldn't _know_ , could he? How could he know?

"I think you missed me," Adam says, squeezing his hand.

Kris heaves a huge sigh of relief. Being a huge dork who can't wait to hang out with his friend is _so_ much better than being a total pervert. "Maybe," he says, because he has been missing Adam. Their time in Vegas had been way too short and tainted by the fact that Kris had to practically sneak away from Katy and Gina. He doesn't mention the fact that perhaps he's been missing Adam a little _too_ much.

Adam drops his hand in favor of clasping the back of his neck to haul him in for an awkward sitting-hug.

After that, they start catching up in earnest, and Kris is able to forget about the magazine for a little while. Maybe Adam won't look at it that closely. Or maybe he'll think someone spilled a drink on it or something.

But later, after he leaves and goes back to his place, he can't stop thinking about it. Katy asks him several times why he's so distracted, and he makes lame excuses about his busy schedule. He knows she's sick to death of hearing that, but he's going through some kind of existential crisis and he really doesn't need to listen to her complaints. He knows them all by heart.

That night, she goes to bed before he does, and when he slips under the covers next to her, trying to be quiet and not wake her, he realizes that it's been over a month since they've had any kind of sex. They've been busy, sure, but not _that_ busy.

He curls onto his side, back to Katy, and tries not to think about the fact that the most satisfying orgasm he's had in months was self-inflicted and caused by a picture of his male best friend.

~*~

It's a few days before Adam finds the magazine. He's shuffling things around on the coffee table, looking for the stereo remote which he's managed to lose _again_ , and he spots it lying there, under a pile of thick books that Brad loaned him, saying they'd enrich his mind or some crap. Despite the fact that their romantic relationship is ancient history, Brad is still on a never-ending quest to prove that he's the 'smart one.' He often complains that people don't appreciate his brain because he's too pretty. In Brad's head, he's occasionally Ally McBeal.

Glad to have a reason to give up on his search for the remote, Adam sinks onto the couch and flips through the magazine. Looking at pictures of himself can be both a joy and a torture, and he's very gratified to see that they made him look really good. Then he realizes that a couple of pages are stuck together. He tugs them gently and they separate with only minimal damage to the paper, but there are splatters all over the picture and the paper is wavy and crinkled, like something was spilled on it.

He looks at it for a few seconds, trying to figure out what could have gotten on it when he hadn't even opened it before today. Maybe it's the pattern of the splatter or maybe it's the fact that it's dotted across his body while he's in a compromising position, but he suddenly has a flashback to those old copies of bodybuilding magazines that he'd hidden under his bed, back before the internet came around and provided him with much better masturbatory fodder. He thinks of the damage those old magazines sustained. The way the pages got all wrinkly and stuck together... Shit!

He drops the magazine like a hot potato and it tumbles to the floor, pages flapping. Someone jacked off on his magazine! Right on the centerfold like he's goddamn Miss July!

He barely has time to wonder who it was when the answer hits him like a ton of bricks. He can see, clear as day, coming home and finding Kris on his couch, looking weird and almost _guilty_ , even a little _breathless_ , with that magazine sitting there just inches from him. And Adam had forgotten about it because it had been so good to just sit there and catch up.

But now, when he's face-to-face with the evidence, he realizes what must have happened, and just like that, he's so turned on that he can hardly breathe. _Kris_.

He barely gets his jeans open before he's coming all over his hand, stars dancing in his peripheral vision. He sits there, aftershocks wracking his body, gasping for breath.

" _Fuck, Kris_ ," he whispers into the empty room. It physically hurts to think about it. To say he's been carrying a torch for Kris wouldn't be entirely true, but he's never really gotten over his crush. Instead, he'd squished it down into a tiny lump somewhere deep in the obsessive, giddy teenage section of his brain, and it had just been sitting there with River Phoenix and _Growing Pains_ -era Leonardo DiCaprio. Now the lump is growing, spreading – or perhaps something that's less of a tumor metaphor – and he can feel a flare of what seems like hope.

Unable to keep the grin off his face, Adam gets up to find his phone. To his surprise, he's almost shaky. Nervous and fluttery as if Luke Brower just walked in all angsty and homeless, but it's over _Kris_. And he needs to verify his suspicions as soon as possible because if he's right, all bets are fucking _off_.

Adam holds his breath while the phone rings. If Kris isn't there...

"Hey Adam."

"Hey, listen, I was just wondering, do you have any idea where that copy of Japanese Rolling Stone ended up?"

Adam has to bite his knuckles when Kris erupts with a coughing fit. He's half-hard again and he's pretty sure he's going to end up dying of orgasm. "Kris?" he asks, trying to keep the triumph out of his voice. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Kris says, still coughing. "Just inhaled my water."

"Well, anyway, I can't find it anywhere. Jut wondered if you remembered. I'll let you go recover. Call me later if you want to talk."

"Alright, man, later," Kris says, still sounding like he's being choked.

Adam tosses the phone back on the counter and wanders into his room to jerk off again. He's trying to concoct some seduction scenarios when he remembers, hello, Kris is _married_. He's not going to be able to just go over there and bend Kris over the kitchen table. The little woman might have something to say about that one. Kris is going to have to be the one to make a move. Adam's not above being a party to adultery, but he's not a homewrecker or anything.

Then he realizes that he _can_ seduce Kris. He already has an angle, and it's one that will force Kris to break first. All he has to do is push the envelope a little more. And then a little more than that.

He flops on his bed and pulls his cock out again. He's going to end up with carpal tunnel before this is over, but it's going to be so worth it to see Kris break. To see him come apart into an exquisite writhing, moaning mess.

And his consolation is that, if everything goes according to plan, Kris will have even more masturbatory injuries than Adam.

  
~*~

Kris had really thought the jig was up when Adam called to ask about his magazine, but apparently Adam really did lose it, because the subject doesn't come up again. Kris has never been so grateful for Adam's shitty housekeeping before.

He's able to put the incident behind him and concentrate on what he's supposed to be doing – making music.

Contrary to the whole making-music plan, they're building a house in Arkansas, which is to say that it was Katy's idea, and she worked with the architect to design it, picked out the land, and has been working with the builder to choose all the features and fixtures. Not like Kris wouldn't have helped but he's been a little busy trying to have a career, thank you very much. So he's alone a lot, but it's okay because he's more occupied than ever and Katy's more resentful than ever, and if he ends up thinking about Adam lying on his back with his mouth open and grabbing his crotch when he jerks off sometimes, then he can really only blame it on the fact that his wife is almost never around. In fact, the last time she spent the night with him was the night he jerked off at Adam's house. And the less said about that, the better.

So when he gets home to his L.A. apartment one night and finds a thick unmarked envelope in the mailbox, he naturally assumes it's more stuff from Katy about the house. Maybe her Hello Kitty return address label fell off, but it must be from her. She keeps sending him carpet samples as if he can tell Beachfront Bisque from Elegant Ecru. They both look like they should be called "Take Your Shoes Off When You Get Inside."

He takes the mail upstairs to his apartment and makes himself a Hot Pocket, because he really is that lonely. He flops on the couch with the envelope, turns on the television because it's Shark Week, and kicks his feet up onto the coffee table. The packet turns out to not be from Katy at all. It's a magazine called _Instinct_ and Adam is on the cover. In a corset.

Kris drops his Hot Pocket in his lap and promptly screeches because the filling in those things gets like molten lava. He flips it onto the end table where it sits, leaking cheese, while he manhandles the magazine open. There's an accompanying article, but Kris's eyes are glued to the full-page picture of Adam, shown from the back and sitting on a chair backwards. His legs are encased in skintight leggings and spread wide on either side of the chair, and the crisscross laces of the corset allow small hints of skin before the wide expanse of his freckled shoulders.

There's the barest hint of profile, but his face isn't the attraction currently – at least not for Kris. He can't look away from Adam's ass. The pants – or are they tights, really? – leave nothing at all to the imagination and the way he's sitting on the edge of the chair, rounded cheeks curving over the edge of the wood, with the seam of the pants running up the crack, showing _everything_ and oh god it's happening again.

You'd think an adult man would remember getting his dick out of his pants, but Adam's ass can apparently induce trances because he's jerking off, rather frantically, and he doesn't remember starting. This time, he learns from his mistake and aims away from the magazine, coming on his own thigh, still gripping the picture like a crazy person.

Holy _crap_.

It isn't until he's put his jeans in the washing machine and tucked the magazine away in one of his drawers that he remembers the unmarked envelope. Someone sent him a magazine containing highly suggestive pictures of Adam. He goes back to the living room and grabs the envelope, thinking maybe it was mismarked. Maybe one of his neighbors is an Adam fan.

But no, it's his name and address on the sticker. Holy _crap_ again. Someone, somewhere, who has his actual, direct home address, thinks that Kris needs Adam-in-a-corset in his life. Which is just silly, really.

Kris plops on the couch and turns up the volume on the television. The congealed Hot Pocket is still on the end table, mocking him. He tries to ignore the low hum and swish of the washing machine, but it nags at him, reminding him of how not-silly he found the Adam pictures fifteen minutes ago.

~*~

The hard part about Adam's plan is that he can't really know whether it's working or not. He can only look for hints. Since _Instinct_ is a magazine for the gay community, it's not like he can ask Kris if he's seen it. Kris doesn't read many magazines beyond like, _Spin_ or _Sports Illustrated_. So unless Adam can wangle his way into the Swimsuit Issue, he's not going to be able to seek out Kris's reactions.

However, he does take comfort in the fact that when they next hang out, a week after he mailed the magazine to Kris, Kris is noticeably jumpier around Adam. Which is a pretty big hint.

Adam invites himself over for pizza and beer – because that's much easier than getting Kris to agree to sushi and Mai Tais – and when he arrives, he wraps Kris in a tight hug that Kris ends much sooner than usual.

When Kris goes to retrieve some beer from the fridge, Adam practically drops the pizza and does a quick search of the living room. Not that he thought Kris would have the magazine just sitting around, but he can't help himself.

"Beer?" Kris asks from behind him.

Adam controls the urge to jump and accepts the cold bottle, folding himself onto the couch. He sets the bottle on the end table. "Hey, what happened to your table?" he asks, seeing the way that part of the cheap wood veneer is rippled and discolored.

Kris chokes on his beer and goes so red that Adam is moved to get up from the couch and whack him on the back. "Dude, are you okay? You seem to be having trouble swallowing lately."

That triggers another coughing fit and Adam pounds him harder. Adam feels quite proud and he really hopes he had something to do with the ruined table. He's cycling through possibilities for the damage and has just gotten to a particularly nice mental picture involving melted candle wax when Kris finally snaps out of it. "I'm fine, man. Sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me lately."

Adam smiles. It's time for round three, and he just finished the shoot that he hopes will do the trick.

He keeps quiet though, and says, "Let's eat. The pizza's getting cold." No sense in causing Kris to choke to death. That would totally ruin his master plan.

~*~

When Kris gets the next unmarked envelope in the mail, he can't even front like he's not frantic to get it open. He tears into it right in the lobby of his building, which proves to be a gross error in judgment.

It's a magazine called _360_ , and it's all in French, but Kris doesn't need a translator to read Adam's name on the cover. He flips through the magazine and almost drops to his knees in the middle of the lobby. It takes him a few minutes to process what he's seeing.

Adam's wearing a thing almost like a wetsuit in that it covers him from neck to wrists to ankles, but it's _see-through_. Some kind of netting, like Katy's fishnet tights. And you'd be able to see _everything_ except for the vinyl record that Adam's holding over his crotch.

Kris's knees go a little shaky as his eyes dart from nipples to the barely-there happy trail to really, really long legs to black painted toenails and back to happy trail. Adam's holding the record so tantalizingly low that Kris almost thinks he can see something, and he realizes he's squinting to try to get a better look.

He also realizes he has a hard-on, so he quickly tucks his mail under his arm and heads for the elevator. As he rides to his floor, he considers the fact that, for the first time since this started, he's not jerking off by accident – thank fuck, since he was _in the lobby_. He's going upstairs and he's going to lock himself in the bedroom and lie on the bed and jerk off while looking at a picture of Adam. It's completely premeditated this time and he doesn't even care.

The elevator seems to take ages, and his hands shake horribly as he tries to open his apartment door. He drops everything on the kitchen table except the magazine, and practically runs to the bedroom. He sits on the edge of the bed and flips back to the picture.

Adam looks unbelievably tall and lean, and his hair is teased high, adding to the effect. Kris wishes he could see Adam's eyes, but he's wearing sunglasses with red plastic frames that match the red on the record's label. It's a cool picture, and Kris had a crazy thought that maybe he could frame it or something, until he remembers that Adam's basically naked, and he's holding that record low enough that you can critique his manscaping.

Kris is starting to think that maybe this whole thing is dirty and wrong, and maybe he should just go out to the kitchen and get a snack and forget about whacking off, when he turns the page and the bottom drops out of his stomach.

It's the same outfit, same hair, even the same sunglasses, but it's the back view. And Adam's holding the record over his head in a graceful arc that stretches his body even longer. But Kris isn't looking at any of that. He's looking at Adam's ass.

He has a flash once of being back in the Idol mansion and Adam saying that he thought his ass was his best feature. Kris had nodded and smiled or whatever, but privately he'd wondered what could be so special about a guy's butt? They were pretty much the same, he'd thought.

Now he feels like writing Adam a detailed, hand-written apology on pretty stationary, because honestly, there ought to be monuments to Adam's ass. The corset pictures were bad enough, but this is, like, naked. And _magnificent_. Kris wants to write a song about it, although he's not sure he could come up with any lyrics other than, "Hot damn, I bet that makes a good sound when you smack it," and that's not really Kris's style, no matter how much he's been influenced by hip-hop.

It's just... Perfect. Round and biteable without being too flabby or jiggly. High and tight – you could bounce a quarter off it – and there are little dimples right where it curves from his lower back, just barely visible through the fishnet. And there's a dark, shadowy area down at the bottom of the crack where the material stretches across the gap and Kris desperately wants to...

 _Shit_. He'd decided he wasn't going to jerk off, but somehow it's happening again and he's got his dick in his hand, stroking hard enough that when he comes, he doubles over with the force of it.

When he straightens up again, he sees that he came all over the magazine. All over Adam's ass. He tries to wipe at it, but he just smears it worse. With a sigh, he flops backwards onto the bed, flinging an arm across his eyes, and wonders if he can order another copy at the website.

~*~

"Well, I hope you're happy," Neil says, and Adam can see the face he must be making, even over the phone.

"About what?" Adam asks, even though he knows Neil will tell him anyway.

"I had to wake up to pound-Adam's-ass as a trending topic on Twitter."

"Wait, who wants to pound my ass?" Adam asks, hoping it's the sexual kind of pounding and not the violent beating kind.

"No, it was a hashtag! You know, with the little pound symbol? Adam's ass. They're obsessed with it! And there were links! And I might have clicked one and now you owe me for therapy."

"Ah," Adam says, trying for nonchalance because nothing pisses Neil off more. "Yes, I might have done a few risqué photo shoots."

"In one of them, you're..." Neil's voice drops to a whisper, "Naked."

"No I'm not. I'm wearing a bodystocking."

"What the fuck is a bodystocking? And stop being so nonchalant!"

Ah-ha! He's got Neil on the ropes now. "It's sort of like a unitard. But different."

"Adam!"

"Fine, what do you want me to say? I decided it was time to spice up my image. And you know my ass is my best feature."

Neil groans. "Your image was already spicy enough! It was the wasabi of images! You didn't need to get naked!"

"I told you, I wasn't naked. That shoot is in a few weeks."

" _What_? So help me Adam, if you do porn, Mom is going to rip another hole in your _best feature_. I'm serious. She forgives a lot of shit, but not porn."

"I'm kidding! And no porn, it would be artistic nudity only, I swear."

"I'm disowning you," Neil says, sounding resigned. "As of today, we are no longer related. I'm changing my last name."

"You do that," Adam tells him, calm in his convictions. "Love you too!" he finishes, hanging up the phone before Neil can really get going.

He needs to take some time to gloat because his _ass is a trending topic_. It's really delightful. He hadn't intended to make that the focus of his sexing-up campaign, but he honestly does think that 'from the back' is his best angle. When he realized he'd need to go for shoots with less clothing, he got a little worried. He's still self-conscious about his stomach – he was sucking it in like a mofo in the fishnet picture – and his chest is okay, but nothing to write home about. His legs are awesome, fine, but his ass is _epic_ , and if he's going to be scantily-clad, that's where he's going to put his energy.

With a pleased sigh, Adam gets up to check Twitter. He wonders if Kris has seen #adamsass yet. Adam hopes he has – in more ways than one.

~*~

When Kris gets up in the morning and sees Twitter's trending topics, he has a mini panic attack, thinking that someone could have known what he was doing the night before. However, it's just other people reacting to Adam's pictures, independent of Kris, which is a relief. He chides himself for being completely narcissistic and insane as he makes his coffee.

He flops on the couch, intending to enjoy some nice quiet time before he leaves. He's got a plane to catch later for his show in Philadelphia tomorrow, and all he wants is to relax before the long day ahead of him.

Of course, when he turns on the TV, The View is on and he catches them right in the middle of talking about the latest _scandal_ , which is of course 'Adam Lambert's racy pictures.' He groans and flips the channel in search of something non-Adam-related.

It's really not what he needs after last night. Especially since, after his third accidental jack-off, he had gotten a call from Katy that didn't go well at all. He's playing a show in Memphis in a week, and he'd asked her to come. Looking back on it, he's not sure _why_ he invited her, since they seem to be living separate lives these days, but it's close enough to Conway that he'd thought she might want to make the trip.

She'd started in on how she'd never wanted to follow him around the country like some kind of groupie, and he'd snapped that his groupies paid more attention to him than she did, and she'd said that if he was going to start cheating on her, they ought to just get a divorce, and he'd said he hadn't cheated on her and never would, but if she didn't feel like being his wife, maybe they _should_ get a divorce.

In all the fights they've had and with all the time they've spent apart, they never mentioned the word before. Even the times when Kris realized he hadn't talked to her in almost a week, or when he'd picked up the phone to spread good news and had dialed his mom, his brother, Adam, Cale, Charles, anyone who wasn't Katy. And even with his recent... attention to Adam's photos, he still hadn't ever considered it.

But now it's sort of hit him all in a rush that Katy's clearly been building the house in Arkansas for herself. She's asked him for his input sometimes – in the beginning – but she's mostly just done whatever she wanted. There's _white_ carpet everywhere. She might call it Antique Ivory or something, but it's white as far as he's concerned and that's not something you do when you want a husband who might sometimes wear dirty old sneakers to live with you.

In a fit of inspiration, he turns the television off and grabs his laptop. He types 'Katy Allen house Arkansas' into Google and starts reading. The next time he glances at the clock, he's shocked to see that almost an hour has passed and he's also shocked to discover that he's pretty much the only person on earth who didn't realize his marriage was over.

With a sigh, he calls his lawyer to ask if he's qualified for stuff other than reading recording contracts. He is, so Kris sets up a meeting. He belatedly realizes that perhaps he ought to let his PR know, too. They're going to be pissed, he can feel it, but he doesn't really care. He doesn't need to ask their permission.

He doesn't feel sad like he thinks he should. Instead, he feels kind of like this is the next step. This is what's supposed to happen. It's what he's been heading toward for years.

He knows he should call his parents, but he checks Twitter again and sees that #adamsass is still trending, even higher now. Which reminds him that he's still got the magazine upstairs, and he decides to go see if the pages are stuck together. If not, he thinks he might have time to knock one off if he hurries. He's still got time before his flight.

~*~

When Adam shows up for the shoot with _Attitude_ , they seem ready to take it to another level. The wardrobe lady smiles at him, slightly evilly, and says with her charming British accent, "They told me no full frontal nudity, but I've been thinkin' of ways to get around that."

Adam raises an eyebrow at her, but he's willing to play along. He does have other nice features, but they're not usually for public consumption. If there's a way to change that, he's game.

Marie is definitely a cheeky one, and she hands him Freddie Mercury-esque pair of high-waisted skin-tight pants made of something black and shiny, and a tight, cropped long-sleeve black shirt with little silver threads running through it. He holds up the pants, making a doubtful face since they look like they're made for a ten-year-old. A really slutty, gay ten-year-old.

"They'll fit," Marie says with a smirk. "And they won't leave anything to the imagination that way. If you need me to powder you to get them on, I'm more than willing."

Adam just bets she is.

He does manage to get the pants on, but it's a close thing. And he realizes that, while it's not _quite_ the same thing as being naked, you can see definite... _outlines_ , and he shifts nervously, not sure he's ready for this.

On the plus side, the high waist combined with the powerful spandex make his stomach look practically concave, and the black platform boots Marie hands over the top of the dressing room door blend into the pants to make his legs look sinfully long and thin. He's as pleased with his appearance as he ever gets, and he feels fierce - really _fucking hot_ \- as he saunters out to have his hair done.

Of course, Marie ruins the whole thing by running over and saying, way too loudly, "Are you sure you don't want your pecker on the left there?"

Adam grits his teeth and prepares to run if she tries to adjust him herself. And then she says, "You know you ought to get the little fellow at least a bit interested, right?" Adam balks a little, but he still reaches down to smooth his hand over his dick, hoping this whole thing doesn't get him arrested.

It's going to be a long day. But he's sure it'll be worth it. He can almost see Kris's face now. He wonders if Kris suspects that Adam himself is sending the magazines. Probably not, knowing Kris. He's more than a little naïve about these sorts of things.

Which is just part of his charm.

Hurriedly, Adam tries to stop thinking about Kris because Marie had said a _little_ excited, and if he doesn't get himself under control, he's going to embarrass himself.

He squinches his eyes shut and tries to think of unsexy things. It's going to be a _really_ long day.

~*~

When Kris gets the next envelope, he sits on it for a few days. Not literally, of course, because that would be even creepier than what he has been doing with them, but he's just not in the mood.

He's strangely not that upset about his marriage failing, because he's realized that it failed long ago and he just didn't notice because he was busy with his own shit. Which in turn makes him realize that a great deal of the blame falls on him as well. Forgetting about your wife is really bad form. But then again, she forgot about him just as surely, so perhaps trying to assign blame is a futile pursuit.

What he really wants is to get shitfaced and yell about how much he hates her and then dissolve into tears because he still loves her, which is the sensible thing to do in these situations, but he doesn't really have a friend who's right to do that with. And doing it alone is really a recipe for ending up on TMZ while he's, like, running down the driveway in boxers, clutching a bottle of SoCo and screeching.

And if a divorce is 'bad for his image,' according to PR, that would be worse.

He's just getting ready to tempt fate and drink alone when he sees the envelope. And it occurs to him that he could call Adam. Not for anything dirty, but he knows Adam's back in LA and he would definitely come over and get drunk if Kris asked nicely. It should have occurred to him long before now, but the fact that he's been masturbating to Adam a lot lately makes things sort of strained.

But Adam doesn't know about that, so it's really only awkward on Kris's end, and he can get over that if he's got booze.

He unearths a bottle of vodka that he's not entirely certain why he has, and he takes two shots before he even picks up the phone. He gets Adam's voicemail and he takes a deep breath as he listens to Adam's familiar voice on the recording.

"Hey man," he says, after the beep. "Can you come over tonight? Because I'm gonna get drunk and it's sad if I have to do it alone, right? I'm getting..." He coughs a little, because even though he's told his parents and a few friends – and his management, which was the hardest call to make – it still sounds really fucking weird to say it out loud. "A divorce. I'm getting a divorce. And I'm okay, but I really need to... not be sober right now, okay? And I kind of... I kind of need you. I mean, if you're busy or whatever that's totally fine. I get it. But if you're free...." He coughs again, feeling like an idiot. "Okay, well, I'll talk to you later," he finishes lamely, and ends the call.

He decides to run out to the store to get some orange juice because screwdrivers seem far less pathetic than straight vodka shots, and lord knows he could use some vitamins in his diet.

When he gets back, Adam's sitting on the sofa in the lobby, looking concerned. "Kris!" he says, way too loud, and hurries over to clutch at Kris's arm. "Are you okay? I was just on the other line, but I got your message and I..." He trails off, looking like he might feel a little foolish for rushing over, but Kris is extremely appreciative.

He grins at Adam as he walks toward the elevator. "Thanks man. I'm glad you came."

As they wait for the elevator, Kris sneaks a look at Adam. He looks good, but he looks totally normal, too, in just jeans and a t-shirt, which is a relief. Not that Kris thinks he would have showed up in a corset or something, but still. Kris rolls his neck a little, willing himself to stop thinking of the corset picture before he gets red and Adam gets suspicious.

When they get inside the apartment, Kris pulls the OJ out of the bag and asks, "Screwdriver?"

"Perfect," Adam says. "I brought vodka." He pulls a bottle out of his bag, and Kris sees it's the same brand he's got in his kitchen. Adam must be the mystery vodka-leaver. The thought makes him a little warm inside. Like there's been a piece of Adam here this whole time, or something.

He goes into the kitchen to grab glasses and give himself a stern talking-to. Adam is his _friend_. One of his best friends, and just because Kris has been using him as porn lately is no reason to act like a douchebag around him.

Confident that he's got himself under control, he takes the glasses into the living room. "So do you want to talk about it?" Adam asks as he pours the vodka.

"Yes. No. I don't know," Kris says, smacking Adam in the shoulder when he snickers. "I mean, there's not much to tell. I really should have seen this coming."

"But was there a... cause? Did something happen?" Adam seems strangely nervous as he asks, and Kris can't imagine what he could be worried about.

"No, it wasn't like, a thing. I think we just realized that we'd basically been separated for months and it made sense to make it official."

Adam takes a long drink and stares at him for a second, processing that. Then he nods. "I guess I'm not shocked to hear it. It's really too bad, though. Can I do anything?"

Kris shrugs. "This is good. This is working," he says, gesturing to the two of them sitting around and drinking.

They sit and chat for a while about neutral, safe topics. Where they've played lately, what their friends are up to, what's coming up on their schedules. Kris is almost finished with his second screwdriver after the two straight shots, and he's feeling loose and easy. Which explains why he says, out of the blue, "Hey, I saw your ass trending on Twitter."

Adam gives him a strange look, but then he grins. "Don't tell me you looked at the pictures."

For some reason – he's blaming the booze – instead of saying something normal and hetero, Kris peers at Adam over the rim of his glass and says, "Might've."

"Oh, and did you like what you saw?" Adam asks him, stretching out against the back of the armchair and exaggeratedly crossing one leg over the other, like it's some kind of dance move.

Kris takes a quick breath, but he's not ready to get into it with Adam yet, so he goes for funny instead. "Wasn't bad. I've seen better."

Adam uncrosses his legs and sits up, tossing his hair in mock outrage. "Kris Allen, that is an outrageous lie."

"Yeah, what're you going to do about it?" Kris taunts.

Adam stands up dramatically, and for a second, Kris thinks he's either going to jump on the couch and tackle him, or maybe show Kris his ass for some kind of up close and personal comparison, but instead he says, "I'm going to take a piss," and stalks towards the bathroom.

Kris dissolves into giggles. His pulse is quick from the almost-flirtatious banter, and he wants more. Wants to push it. He's feeling... free.

He drains the last of his drink and pushes up off the couch to pour another one. Adam meets him in the kitchen and orders, "Bartender, pour me another!" as he leans against the counter dramatically. When his elbow hits the granite, it skids into a stack of mail and other crap that Kris hadn't bothered to take care of. Papers slide to the floor and the envelope - _that_ envelope – lands right on top of the pile with a smack.

"Oops, sorry," Adam says reaching down to start picking things up.

Kris doesn't even think before he lurches down, nearly slamming heads with Adam, and snatches the envelope off the top of the pile. It belatedly occurs to him that it's an unopened unmarked envelope and Adam wouldn't have given it a second look, except now Kris has acted like he's got something to hide and made it into a _thing_.

"What are you trying to hide there, Kristopher?" Adam asks, his voice low and teasing. "You have to let me see."

Kris tries to think of an excuse, but he's tipsy and guilty, and Adam is right _there_ , looming over him, trying to reach behind his back, and Kris can smell his cologne and see the freckles on his lips, and it's really distracting.

Which is why Adam is able to snag the envelope.

He holds it above his head in triumph, where Kris can't possibly reach it without, like, a step-stool, and starts sliding his finger under the flap, ripping it open.

"Don't," Kris says weakly, but it's too late. A glossy magazine is sliding into Adam's hands.

Adam doesn't seem surprised by the contents, though. He merely smiles, slick and feral, and says, "Why Kristopher! I didn't know you were such a fan."

"I'm not! I mean... Someone's been sending them. Someone wants me to..."

He trails off distracted as Adam flips through the pages. "This was a fun shoot," he says, conversationally, as if this isn't totally weird. "The wardrobe lady was a pistol."

Kris makes a grab for the magazine, but Adam holds it easily out of his reach. "Do you want to see?" he asks. "Just let me find what I'm looking for."

As Kris watches, helpless, Adam turns the pages agonizingly slowly, until he finally stops and smirks. "Ahh, here we are."

He hands the open magazine to Kris, and when Kris takes it he inhales sharply, nearly triggering another coughing fit. Adam's standing against a brick wall, head thrown back and mouth open, and he's wearing pants so tight that Kris can see the outline of his – very large – dick as it snakes down his pantleg. He just stares for what's probably an uncomfortably long time, but Adam doesn't comment.

Kris just looks and looks, taking in the tight shirt molded to his long arms, and the way his hands are splayed against the brick like he's bracing for something. The line of his throat up to his sharp jaw, and how a few pieces of hair are clinging to the rough brick like he dragged his head across it, writhing.

"Kris," Adam finally says, his voice harsh and choked. "Kris."

Kris is painfully hard, and his dick is pressing against his fly so hard that he's afraid he'll pop a button. Adam can probably tell, if he's looked there, and Kris can't meet his eyes as he says, "I've been looking at them. The magazines. And I've been jerking off to them. To you."

Adam makes a strangled moan and grabs Kris's arm. "Show me," he says, pulling Kris to the bedroom.

Inside the room, Adam closes the door behind them and points to the bed. "Show me," he repeats, breathing heavily.

"What?" Kris asks, even though he's pretty sure he knows.

"Show me how you got yourself off looking at me."

"Adam," Kris grits out, pressing his hand against his fly. He's so turned on that he can hardly think, and he's flip-flopping between wanting everything, _everything_ , Adam could offer him, and being scared completely shitless.

"Show me," Adam says again, and Kris snaps into action. He's definitely buzzed, but he's got all his wits about him and it's surprisingly easy, both physically and mentally, to pop the buttons on his jeans one by one and sit on the edge of the bed with the magazine. He figures the simplest thing to do is just pretend that Adam's not even there, which is easier said than done, but he tries his best.

He leans back against the pillows, holding up the magazine like a shield to block Adam's view of his face. That makes it better, and he gets bold enough to reach down and pull his dick out. Thankfully, Adam doesn't make a sound, but Kris _knows_ he's there. Watching. And that makes his cock throb in his hand.

He strokes a few times, gently, not wanting to come embarrassingly quickly. He feels like he might, though, because he's never been in a situation so fraught with sexual tension. He remembers the first time, when he jerked off all over Adam's _Rolling Stone_ , and how he'd thought it was the best sex he'd ever had. He realizes what that says about himself, about his previous relationship, about what's to come.

The bed dips, startling him out of his thoughts, and for a second, he thinks – hopes – that Adam's going to crawl across his body and take over, or maybe even blow him, but Kris doesn't feel anything.

He moves the magazine shyly and sees that Adam's sitting at the foot of the bed, leaning against the footboard with his legs folded Indian style. And just watching.

Kris scoots back awkwardly, sitting up a bit more against the headboard. Adam's eyes are glued on Kris's dick and Kris starts stroking again, watching Adam's eyes go dark and his mouth fall open, just the slightest bit.

Kris glances down and sees Adam's erection, tight in his jeans. "You, too," Kris gasps, squeezing the base of his cock hard, trying to buy time. "You do it, too."

Luckily, Adam still doesn't say anything. He just undoes his pants and pulls out his cock. It's big and thick and Kris really wants to touch it. He wants to run his hands over it the way Adam is. He wants to scoot closer and bend over and lick the head, where it's dark pink and leaking.

He doesn't, though, because he doesn't know what's allowed. All he knows to do is jerk himself off, panting and desperate, as Adam does it too. It's such a revelation, how breathless and frantic he can get without even being touched. Adam's so close, though, and he could reach out if he wanted to and touch his knee or his face. Just something that would be _contact_ , but he won't let himself. Not yet. He wants to see how far he can stretch this tension before he explodes.

They're both racing now, fists moving like pistons, with little hitches coming in their breaths and then Adam says, "Come. I want to see you come."

Kris never knew he could take a command like that, but he gasps and shoots all over his hand, all over his shirt, grunting and groaning like a crazy person. He's barely opened his eyes again when Adam's joining him, messing up his own shirt and dropping splatters onto his jeans.

"Holy _shit_ ," Kris breathes. He rolls his hips, stretching his legs out to release the tension, and Adam unfolds himself, tucks his dick away without fastening his pants and climbs on top of Kris, thigh to thigh and chest to chest, pushing his face into Kris's neck.

He seems as boneless and wiped as Kris feels. He reaches his hands around Adam's back and holds him, stroking his back and the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Adam makes a little contented noise, but he doesn't say anything else. Kris's mind is working a mile a minute, but he can't formulate a coherent thought.

Adam peels himself off Kris and sits back against the footboard. "Well, that was new," he says mildly, sort of like he's afraid Kris is going to freak out. He doesn't blame Adam for that. He's sort of shocked himself at how little he's freaking out.

"I'm not going to freak out," he finally says out loud. "Maybe later. I might later, I don't know yet. But maybe you should fuck me before I have a chance to."

Kris doesn't even know where that comes from, but as soon as he says it, he knows it's the gospel truth. He might freak out, but probably not, and he really does want Adam to fuck him. He wants everything that entails, preferably now before his buzz fades and he starts asking himself questions.

Luckily, Adam doesn't ask either. He just makes a noise that Kris can't quite come up with a name for, and crawls back onto Kris, bringing their lips together so gently that it's like a question itself. _This_ is Adam asking him if he's sure. If he can do this.

Which is a joke, because Kris has been ready for this since he cracked open that _Rolling Stone_. He was probably ready before that. It's possible he's been ready since Hollywood Week when Adam grabbed his hand for the first time and said, "Isn't this _cool_?"

Kris doesn't even hesitate. He pushes back against Adam's mouth, opening his lips and tracing his tongue across the freckles he knows are there. Adam tastes like orange juice and alcohol and it's perfect. He kisses Kris like he's got all the time in the world just to kiss. Long, messy, easy kisses that Kris hadn't realized he'd been missing in his life. Adam kisses like he doesn't have any other plans. Like it's where he'd want to be if the world just stopped turning and this was the end.

Kris has never been kissed like he's the most important thing in the world, and it makes him feel whole for the first time in his life.

When they pull back to breathe, Adam looks him in the eyes, cautious and thoughtful. "Are you sure about all of this?"

"Very," Kris says firmly, refusing to take the out.

Adam gives him a grin of pure Christmas joy, and climbs off the bed. "Then we should probably shower and get out of these clothes. We're kind of gross."

"Good idea," Kris says. He wants to protest that the kissing has stopped, but he has the giddy realization that he can ask for more now. Maybe whenever he wants.

Adam gets up and says, sort of nervously, "Do you want me to go across the hall, or...?"

Kris thinks about what it would be like to shower with Adam, and he would definitely enjoy it, but he sort of wants to take a moment, so he says, "Yeah, okay. I'll be quick. But I need a little..." He waves his hand, trying to think of the right thing to say, but Adam just nods like he actually understands.

"Take your time," Adam tells him. "And wash your ass." Kris pauses, wondering if Adam thinks he has hygiene issues or something. Seeing his face, Adam clarifies, "I have plans for it."

Kris's knees shake just a bit. "Well... Same to you, then," he says, grinning and hoping Adam gets the message.

"I _knew_ you liked those pictures," Adam says, smirking as he goes to the other bathroom.

As soon as the door is closed, Kris sags against the wall, his teeth chattering. He's about to have sex, and he feels like it's the first time. It probably will be his first time for a lot of the things they're about to do. But he's not scared. Not at all. Humming a little, he turns on the shower and gives himself the most thorough washing of his life. He hurries, though, ridiculously excited and tingling with anticipation.

He loves the fact - _loves it_ \- that he's taking some time to think this over. He's been blaming so many of the things that have happened recently on accidents. He's been telling himself that he didn't mean to do them. Now he's starting to wonder if his subconscious is just smarter than the rest of him, and maybe everything he's been doing has been leading up to this moment.

He wraps the towel around his waist and thanks his subconscious. He's thought it over, he's considered it, and there's still nothing he wants more in the world than to go into the other room and let Adam do whatever he wants. However, he's pretty sure that he owes Adam a little payback, so he thinks they'll probably have to do what _Kris_ wants first.

~*~

  
Adam arranges himself on the bed in as artful as pose as he can manage. He's just starting to wonder if he should have been less forward and put his underwear back on when Kris comes out of the bathroom in just a towel. He looks positively edible, and as a drop of water runs down Kris's chest, Adam licks his lips.

Kris is too busy staring to notice, though. "God, Adam," he breathes, low and reverent. Adam feels the grin stretching his face. He'd been so busy anticipating sex that he'd forgotten about his whole 'Kris needs to do the seducing' thing, but really, he's getting divorced and he's _clearly_ into it if the tent in his towel is any indication. Adam doesn't really need any more proof than that.

Adam is about to attempt to respond when Kris drops the towel and Adam forgets how to use the English language because _damn_. He's seen Kris mostly naked on several occasions, but this is a world of different, and Adam's fingers are itchy to touch him. Kris seems to have other plans, though, as he stalks over to the bed and slaps his hand down on Adam's thigh a little too hard to be sexy.

"Do you know what you've been doing to me?" Kris asks, low and predatory, and this is _really_ not what Adam expected from Kris. "Those damn pictures have been killing me. _Killing me_. Do you know that?"

Adam senses that Kris's question is rhetorical, so he keeps still, breathing shallowly. Kris tugs on his hip, rolling him onto his stomach and even though Adam half-expects the slap, it still stings. He wouldn't have pegged Kris to be into spanking, but Adam's not really going to argue when Kris is being all… masterful.

"I wish I could get you back for that, but I'd have to tie you up and torture you for a month for us to be even," Kris says, his tone casual. He strokes his hand over the abused cheek, petting away the lingering sting.

Adam can't resist saying, "I'd be okay with that."

Kris laughs a little. "Me too," he says.

Adam squirms a little. Kris is still stroking him, adding in an idle squeeze every once in a while, and Adam wonders if this is phase one of the torture. Just as he's getting ready to say something, Kris swings himself onto the bed in one graceful move, straddling the backs of Adam's thighs. He rubs his hands over Adam's ass, sinking his fingers in just enough to make Adam wiggle. "I wondered if you had freckles," Kris says, never stopping his stroking.

"I have freckles everywhere," Adam laments.

"They're awesome," Kris tells him, which is a really silly thing to say, honestly, but it makes Adam smile.

"Do something, will you?" he finally complains. "You're making me crazy!"

"Can't you ever be patient?" Kris asks, his voice thick with humor. Adam wants to fire off a snotty comeback, but Kris scoots lower on Adam's legs and leans down and bites Adam's ass, right on at the bottom of his cheek. Adam bucks so hard that he nearly pulls a muscle in the process. He makes a noise that he suspects is embarrassing, but then Kris does it again on the other cheek and all Adam can do is moan.

Who knew he had a biting kink? Although in all fairness, it's probably more of a 'Kris is biting my ass' kink, and he can't be blamed for having that.

Before he can even process, Kris scoots a bit more and Adam feels his hands, spreading, opening. And then his tongue swipes against Adam's hole and Adam moans again, because really, this is much more than he bargained for with a first-timer.

"I've wanted to do that since that damn fishnet picture," Kris tells him matter-of-factly. "Maybe the corset one." He leans down and licks again. "Hell, maybe since I first met you. I thought it was the pictures driving me crazy, but I've started thinking that maybe it's just you."

"I sent those magazines," Adam confesses, because he doesn't really want there to be anything between them right now.

"I think I kinda knew that. Who else would do that? You knew about _Rolling Stone_ then, right?"

"Yeah, _ohhhhh yes_ like that. Yeah, I knew. So you weren't the only one going crazy."

Kris is tonguing him in earnest now so Adam stops talking. Clearly no one regrets their decisions leading up to this point.

Adam's just getting to the point where he's wondering whether Kris is just going to rim him until he comes, Kris backs off, rubbing his hands over Adam's ass as if he can't bear to stop touching it. Then he leans in and bites again, this time more of a nibble, right on the tender skin where his cheek curves into the crack. Adam shivers and whispers Kris's name.

"Can it be my turn now?" Kris asks, as if Adam's somehow been selfish this whole time.

"You're a bossy little thing, aren't you?" Adam asks, even as he's tipping Kris off his legs and pouncing on him. Kris is spread out on the bed, looking debauched and eager. His cock is angry-red and the tip is shiny and wet. Adam had been planning to give him a taste of his own medicine, but he detours from the plan to head straight to Kris's cock, taking the whole length into his mouth until the tip hits the back of his throat.

Kris makes an adorable squeaking noise and buries his hands in Adam's hair, tugging just enough that it's hot, but not enough to hurt. "Adam, Adam," he whispers, urgent.

Adam wants to go slowly, but he's wanted this for a long time, and Kris is so hard in his mouth as he strokes with his lips and tongue. He can tell that Kris wants him to back off and wait, but Adam can't resist gripping the base with his hand, feeling the silky skin dripping with the slick spit that only comes from a good deep-throating, and pumping up to meet his mouth until Kris comes on the fourth stroke.

Adam doesn't stop sucking until Kris physically pushes him away. He comes up licking his lips and feeling pretty proud of himself.

Kris shakes his head a little, grinning a very self-satisfied grin. Then he swallows and asks, "Do you want me to…"

"Return the favor? Eventually. But you're the one who brought it up, and if I don't get to fuck you tonight, I'm not going to be responsible for my actions."

Kris sucks in air so harshly that for a second, Adam thinks he's going to have another coughing fit, but then he nods. "Yeah, okay."

It's not the sexiest response in the world, but it hits Adam down low and he has to bend a bit to counteract the throb in his abdomen. Then he realizes that they're in Kris's bedroom and not his own and he asks, "Do you have…?"

Kris gets off the bed, and Adam is gratified to see that his steps are a little wobbly. He goes into the bathroom and comes back a second later with a bottle of lube and a couple of condoms. "They're Ribbed For Her Pleasure," he says with a wry smirk. "Hopefully that transcends gender."

Adam knows he doesn't mean to make it into a reminder of Katy, but Adam has to ask, "Did I…? I mean, was it my fault…?"

Kris shakes his head and crosses to the side of the bed, taking Adam's face in his hands. "That's a fucking stupid question," he says, and leans down to kiss Adam. It's a mark of… well, something, probably, that neither of them seem to care where the other's mouth has been. Adam needs to know, though, and Kris is giving him the answer in the best possible way.

When they break apart, Kris climbs onto the bed with Adam. "Do you really think this would be happening if I wasn't sure?"

That reminds Adam of what's supposed to be happening, and he stops fretting. "Fair enough," he says. "Now roll over."

Kris grins, quick and a little nervous, but he complies. Adam doesn't bother with anything fancy. He just stretches out into a good position and laves his tongue over Kris's hole over and over again, while Kris squirms and bucks and swears. Adam doesn't let up, though. He needs Kris to be begging for it. He waits, petting over the silky skin with his tongue, until he hears Kris say, "Please. Fuck me, do it. Please."

Adam grins in triumph, finally backing off. He does so love to be asked nicely. He holds Kris's hips still with one hand while he flicks the cap on the lube with the other. He drizzles a thin stream down and rubs it in with his fingers, threatening to push inside on every pass, but never following through.

" _Adam_ ," Kris whines, humping the sheet. Adam smiles again and takes pity on him, pushing a finger inside quick and sharp. Kris twists against it but takes it without complaint. Adam twists and pulls, working the lube everywhere it needs to be. When Kris stops writhing, Adam adds another finger, and Kris starts up again. It's Adam's new favorite game.

Adam tears open a condom packet with his teeth, sliding it on one-handed so that he can keep working Kris open. " _Please_ ," Kris says again, and Adam's always had trouble saying no. He pulls Kris to his hands and knees and then presses against his prostate, quick and shocking, and while Kris is hissing and squirming, Adam slides his fingers out and immediately begins replacing them with his dick, moving as slowly as he can manage when everything in him is screaming to thrust deep.

They both make identical noises of extreme satisfaction, and it would be funny if Adam had the capacity to think at all. Kris is so fucking tight, which isn't a shock, but it's been a while since Adam has felt like this. Like he might come apart into a thousand pieces, starting with his cock. It's so intense and he realizes he's squeezing Kris's hip so hard that there will undoubtedly be bruises tomorrow.

Adam can tell he's not going to last as long as he'd like, so he reaches down and wraps his hand, still slick with lube, around Kris's cock and starts a slow stroking. Kris is making incoherent noises, but Adam feels like he can understand each one. He pushes faster now, watching in satisfaction as Kris bears down hard, his shoulders touching the mattress, and grabs handfuls of the sheets, twisting them in his grasp.

He gives one more good pull, and just like that, Kris is coming into Adam's fist, and Adam can't hold back any longer. He slams his hips against Kris's ass, driving him harder into the bed, until he comes with a drawn-out moan and collapses against Kris's back.

They lie together for a few minutes, just breathing. Adam tosses the condom at the trash can, but that's about all he has the energy for. They're silent long enough that Adam starts getting scared that Kris is freaking out, and he's searching for something to say when Kris says, "Did you keep the corset?"

Adam laughs, startled and happier than he can remember being in ages. "No, but I could buy a new one."

"Yeah," Kris says sleepily. "Let's do that."

"Are you gonna fall asleep on me?" Adam asks. "Such a typical man."

"Nah," Kris says. "I'm really not all that typical. I thought you'd know that by now."

Adam grins and leans down to kiss him. He does know. And he's really glad for it.

~*~

In the morning, Kris wakes up with Adam wrapped around him like a big, freckly blanket. He feels good. Happy. And he really doesn't know what he's going to say to… anyone. But he really doesn't care. It's like the past couple of months have been a total cocktease, and he's _finally_ gotten off. Short of nuclear war, nothing can bring him down right now.

Adam stirs and opens his eyes, peering at Kris blearily. "That wasn't a dream, huh?" he asks, rolling over and peering at Kris with mock-suspicion.

"Nope. You're stuck with me."

"Ah, such a hardship. I shall endeavor to persevere."

Kris pokes him in the side. "Don't get cocky. If we're going to do this, there are going to be some rules."

Adam's face shifts to slightly wary. "Such as?"

"Next time you do a photo shoot, I'm coming with you."

Adam bursts out laughing and presses his face against Kris's chest. He grabs one of Kris's nipples a little too hard with his teeth and Kris swats at him. "Brat," Adam says.

"Takes one to know one," Kris answers, which is pretty much the dumbest response ever, but he can't even care right now.

Adam pushes him back and looms over his face, trying to look menacing but failing. Kris snickers and Adam leans in to peck him on the mouth. "That's a shitty rule. How about, the next photo shoot I do, you can do it with me. Naked."

Kris thinks that over for a second and then says, "Deal."


End file.
